Eggs in a Basket

Gummy bears used to be my favorite snack. I’d ride in the backseat, staring at the back of my parents’ heads as the car would bounce and jolt as we bounded into the gas station. They used to buy family packs, and I would ensure that nobody else got any of the red bears except for me. Once, they let me sit in the car alone with the entire pack. By the time they had returned, which was over the course of maybe 3 minutes, all that was left was the gold and red lining of a bag that once held many delicious sugary treats. Later, I found myself over the toilet, greeting the same gummy bears again, face down, as they swam into the bowl before me. One even got caught in my nose. They ruined gummy bears for me. Since that day, each and every time I see a gummy bear, my hands sweat, my stomach churns, and I get just a little weak in the knees. Luckily, at some point in my life, I'll get over it and be able to try them again, but not quite yet. Just waiting for the right moment.

Soccer used to be my favorite sport. The high from running all over the field and playing within your lanes. Running up the wing to send in a ball that will inevitably be skyrocketed to the top of the middle school. The teamwork, the dedication to the game, and the amount of fun ti was to play was like nothing else I had done up until that point. In my 8th-grade year, we went on a run and made it to the district finals. I was up the wing, had left defenders in my wake, looking lost as I dashed past them. I cut into the box and planted my foot, ready to shoot. Then there she was. Claura Laurain. She has burst from the chaos in the middle of the box and broken free on the far edge. I adjusted my boot and got underneath the ball before sending it over the heads of defenders and teammates alike. It wasn’t a perfect pass, but Claura connected with her forehead and smashed the ball into the back of the net. We all ran and cheered and celebrated together. We hoisted Claura onto our shoulders after the game had ended and ran around the field screaming and yelling till our lungs begged for air. She was the queen of middle school since that day. There wasn’t a single person who didn’t hear about her heroics.

Part of me is ashamed to admit it, but I wish it had been me. I could have scored from my spot. I was going to. But I passed. I passed to Claura lourain and now I was just another member of the soccer team. I don’t know why I hesitated; maybe it was my coach in my head telling me to be a team player, maybe it was the fact I knew I could make the pass and still contribute, but maybe, just maybe, I was scared. I didn’t want to fail in the spotlight, lose my footing, and fall on my face; I didn’t want to be the reason for the fall of our championship team. So I left it up to her. I should have taken that chance. I should have followed through.

We graduated from middle school and were welcomed into the grandeur that was high school fairly unceremoniously. I had been waiting for this moment. I had heard rumors about how much freedom you would get as a teenager in high school, and I was ready to relish it. I was ready to be reborn. I made an oath to push past my fear, my worry, and my anxiety. I was going to overcome the moments that had been holding me back. I would enjoy my favorite snacks, do what I wanted to do, and relish my freedom as I saw fit. I would be whoever I wanted to be from this point forth. I started with my clothes, I stopped wearing so much makeup, slipping on sweats and jeans, and whatever shirts were still clean from my closet. Eventually i fell in with the punk rock kids after attending a couple of their late-night shows that were held the same night as our school football games. They were cool. Belts and rings, piercing and scars, they were brave too. They would skateboard and fall, but pick themselves right back up and keep on trying over and over again. I was acquainted with some from the band, but I really got along with Chuck and Tommy.

Tommy was more of a challenger of ideas, ready to get into an argument, abolish the establishment, weed is not a crime, sort of punk, you know? He would often pick verbal fights with people passing them on the street, making some snarky comment about how they could wear the colors of a politician rather than the colors of the people. I wanted to learn how to be as quick and decisive as he is. Chuck was more of the physical guy. He would start mosh pits, be the front in the line at a protest when somebody’s rights were at stake, and often enough, if Tommy’s verbal jousts went too far, Chuck was there to settle the score. I wanted to be brave like Chuck, not to be afraid of anything anymore. One night, I told them both that I wanted to emulate their qualities. At first, they scorned me, telling me to be my own person, but when I told them how I saw their qualities, they relented. Tommy was the first to speak up.

“Well, if you want to be like us, you have to be brave. Are you brave?”

I thought for a moment before answering, “I…I don’t think I’m brave.”

Tommy clapped his hands together and leaned back into the passenger seat of Chuck’s truck, “Well, there is step one, you cannot be brave if you have never been scared before. Chuck used to be scared of spiders.”

“Used to? Still am.” Chimed in Chuck, “But the more you challenge your fears, the easier they become to face, you know?”

“Exactly.” Said Tommy, “Now, after we drop you off, I want you to think about your biggest fear. Whatever it is, Chuck and I will help you conquer it, okay?”

The door unlocked as the truck pulled into my driveway, that universal sign to get out of the car I nodded and told them I would put some thought into the matter and made my way into my home. I did some thinking that night. About my fears, the dark, gummy bears, not being enough, you know, the usual stuff. But my biggest fear? Heights. Always had been, always will be. I came to them the next day and relayed my introspective findings. They both smiled in unison, like they had been waiting for this moment. I was told that they have the perfect place for me to test out. I found them after school, and we started driving. For a while. We went past the city streets, through the backroads and alleyways, and burst out onto a gravel road that made the truck shake like the world was falling apart. We passed treelines and plains and drove away from the sun that had begun to make its motion towards the horizon. Eventually, we stopped at the water tower. Elmsworth City Water was tattooed at the top of this very round and very white structure. We climbed over the chainlink fence that was meant to stop us and made our way to a door at the foot of the structure. It opened, no lock, no resistance, and revealed a ladder. It climbed to what I assumed was the very top of the structure. I wiped the sweat from my hands onto my jeans and took a deep breath. My head was rushing; it felt like I was back on that soccer field again in the position to make the winning play. My stomach was churning, like how it did when I was face down in a toilet bowl after eating too many gummy bears. But my heart was racing. It was thudding in my ears, and my neck was pulsing as blood raced from my heart to my brain to my feet. I was scared. My knees were buckling, and my body was screaming at me to turn tail and hide in the truck. But you cannot be brave unless you are scared. So I decided to be brave.

The clanging of rings and shoes against the rungs of the ladder made for difficult conversation while climbing. My hands would often slip off the slick metal, but not before my other hand would catch me or buy enough time to regrasp the rung that had attempted to send me to my doom. It was nerve-racking. It was dangerous. It was exhilarating. It made my heart race, my ears tingle, and my blood pound through my ears. I felt alive.

The view from the top was magnificent. It was on the edges of town, so there were no big buildings, or any buildings for that matter, to block the view. Deers and bucks would trot along the open field, dashing from one side of the treeline to the other, followed behind by a doe and her fawn. Raccoons would swarm the bottom of the tower, scrounging the snacks that I had long finished and thrown toward the horizon. The gravel path we took here was calm and undisturbed, no dust flying into the air and clogging your lungs, no tink tink tink of gravel slapping the undercarriage of whatever vehicle you took, just peace. The world was beautiful from above. Everything was so small from up here, like I could reach out and hold it in the palm of my hand. The fields, the animals, my friends, my world held in the palm of my hand. Part of me recognized that my fear was adding a slight bit of exhilaration to the peacefulness at the top. My legs would never stop shaking up there, and I was forever aware of how high up we were. Oftentimes Tommy or Chuck would drop sticks or pebbles, leaning over the edge of the guardrail to watch them fall. It took around 12 seconds from top to bottom, but that depends on how fast you count or who you ask to count.

So here I sit, atop the water town, watching the oranges and reds fade as they descend behind the horizon, as the evening makes way for the deep purple sky of the night, accompanied by the specks of stars and planets so far away, yet so bright, to welcome in a time of rest. I was alone right now. My friends had decided to make a run to the nearest gas station during our time rather than before. I saw Chuck’s car pull over the hill, gravel kicking up into the air and leaving a trail of dust to cloud the empty fields behind him. That was my sign. I stood up and stretched my arms to the sky, the stress leaving my body in droves as my muscles loosened. I close my eyes to enjoy the wind brushing my face as one final goodbye for the night, to meet again soon. To start a new habit and to be braver more often. I open my eyes, and blue and red and yellow bugs had begun to swarm my vision. I swatted at them to ensure some new sort of insect wasn’t attacking me. My arm swung forward with a loud whiff, as if you had swung a stick through the air as fast as you could and hit nothing. My shoulders spun, and I lost my footing. I swing my arms in circles, attempting to regain some semblance of balance. My momentum continues to carry me forward, and forward. My back smacks against the guardrail, and my momentum carries me right over the top headfirst. I was falling.

12.

Woah wait what? Am I falling? That can’t be right. There was a guardrail, and I was just about to head down and meet up with my friends. Ohhhhhhhhh, I see. I didn’t actually fall; this is just a dream. It’s not real.

11.

I’ll wake up right before I hit the ground. I’ve had plenty of nightmares like this before. This one does feel particularly real this time, which is weird. But I know I’ll be fine. Just wait.

10.

The horizon is rising. The Earth is coming closer. The air is cool. The wind is rushing past my ears, and I can hear the truck my friends are driving coming closer. Is somebody screaming? I think I hear screaming. I think that’s me. I’m screaming. Oh no.

9.

Oh no. Oh no. Oh no. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck Fuck FuckFuckFuckFuckFuckFuckFuck. GODDAMN IT, I KNEW I SHOULD’VE NEVER GONE UP THERE. What was I thinking? What were my friends thinking? Arghhhh!!!!

8.

This is bullshit. This sucks. I was going to go to some college, have some boyfriend, break up with him, drink and party, settle down, and have a family when I was done messing around. But no. Nope! My story ends here and now. What a bunch of horsehit.

7.

Maybe I can grab onto something. Like a ledge or a latch that’s jutting out from the tower! My arms are already extended, so I would just have to move a little bit towards the base and find some sort of loose panel or hatch that safety guys use, right?

6.

Nope. I can’t reach, too far away. Well shit. Whoever is listening to my thoughts right now, I will do anything if you send me back. Send me back to the top. I’ll get all As in school, I’ll volunteer at an animal shelter, I’ll work at a soup kitchen, I’ll do anything, just please let me try again. Let me live. Please let me live.

5.

Who am I kidding? Nobody is listening. It’s just me here. Just me, and the wind that ushers me down towards the hard, cold earth. I…I think this is it for me. I’ll never see my family again. I’ll never get to walk across the stage and graduate. There was so much I had left to do.

4.

I'll never get to go to a football game again. I’ll never be able to walk around and cause trouble with my friends again. I’ll never get to see my parents' faces as they scold me for my behavior again. God, I miss them. I wish they were here. I’ll miss them so much.

3.

I’ll miss everything, I think. The list is too long, but my whole world was worth all the trouble. I wish I had listened to my body when it was yelling at me to not reach for the stars, to keep my feet planted on the ground. If I had listened, maybe I wouldn’t be falling

2.

I’m level with Chuck's car now. I can see the faces of my friends one last time, at least. They were really special in this whole thing. Even in death, I won’t forget those who never gave up on me. I can see the gravel so clearly. It hovers in the air as the truck rolls towards me. It moves like the whole world has been covered in honey. Maybe when I go, I’ll be put into a world surrounded by my people, and honey. I’ll play soccer again. I can eat as many gummy bears as I want and not get sick. I’ll get to live my life how it was supposed to be. Maybe I’ll get my second chance. Maybe I-

1.